ymple.
The brilliant Sylvia Planter had no business sitting between two such
men. The fact that Blodgett had got the right people stared him in the
face, but even so the man wasn't good enough to be Sylvia Planter's
host. Nor did George like the way she sipped her wine. She seemed
forcing herself to a travesty of enjoyment. Betty, on the other hand,
drank nothing. He questioned if she was sorry Sylvia had brought her.
She seemed glad enough, at least, to be with Lambert. He appeared to
absorb her, and, in order to listen to him, she left Dalrymple nearly
wholly to Sylvia. Once or twice she glanced across and smiled at George,
but her kindliness had an air of coming from a widening distance. George
was trapped--a restless giant tangled in a snarl of fluff.

He sighed his relief when the women had gone. He didn't remain long
behind, wandering into the deserted hall where he stood frowning at the
fire. He heard a reluctant step on the stairs and swung around. Sylvia
walked slowly down, a cloak about her shoulders. In a sort of
desperation he raised his hand.

"This party has got on my nerves."

He couldn't read the expression in her eyes.

"It's stifling in here," she said.

She walked the length of the hall, opened the door, and went through to
the terrace.

George's heart quickened. She was out there alone. What had her eyes
meant? He had never seen them just like that. They had seemed without
challenge.

There was a coat closet at the rear of the hall. He ran to it, got a cap
and somebody's overcoat, and followed her out.

She sat on the railing, far from the house. The only light upon her was
the nebulous reflection from the white earth. He hurried to her, his
heart beating to the rhythm of nearer--nearer--nearer----

She stirred.

"As usual with you," she said, "I am unfortunate. I didn't think you
would follow me. I came here because I wanted to be alone. I wanted to
think. Can you appreciate that?"

He sat on the railing close to her.

"You never want me. I have to grasp what opportunities I can."

He waited for her to rise and wander away. He was prepared to urge her
to remain. She didn't move.

"I can't always be running away from you," she said.

She stared straight ahead over the garden, nearly phosphorescent with
its snow.

"Nearer, nearer, nearer," went through his head.

"It has been a long time since I've seen you," he said, "but even so I
wish you hadn't come here."

"Why did you co